


missing, presumed dognapped

by friendo



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Minor Swearing, One Shot, Phone Calls, Post-Canon, Prompt Fill, shhhh makkachin is a girl now ok, where is the doggy?, yuuri figuratively shits himself, yuuri's life is an emotional rollercoaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 10:49:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15794973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendo/pseuds/friendo
Summary: “Makkachin?” Yuuri calls, toeing off his shoes.She’s probably curled up in her bed in the main room. Sometimes she’ll be sleeping when he arrives, and because she’s a bit deaf in her old age she doesn’t always register right away when Yuuri comes home.After hanging his coat up, Yuuri whistles a tune to himself as he strolls into the main room.He stops. He stares.Not a single poodle. Makkachin's not here.





	missing, presumed dognapped

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from [@wewritevictuuri](http://wewritevictuuri.tumblr.com) \-- "Not Makkachin! Please not Makkachin!" 
> 
> Wrote this in an afternoon while I was trying to get myself back into the swing of the writing... and then actually finish something and post it. I've been writing a lot, but it always takes an extra amount of effort to get something to the level where I'm happy sharing it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this little scene!

Coming back home to Viktor’s St Petersburg apartment usually means being assaulted by a flurry of clipped nails and fluff and slobbery kisses, as well as a goofy, love-drunk boyfriend with a penchant for warm hugs and tender pecks on the cheek. 

Viktor leaves on a business trip a week after Yuuri moves in, so when he unlocks the door and pushes it open, Yuuri only braces himself for the former.

Silence.

No barks, no click-clack of claws on the floorboards. No Makkachin in sight. The only assault he experiences is a painful twinge in his hip from Yakov drilling him on quad flips for the last two hours.

“Makkachin?” Yuuri calls, toeing off his shoes.

She’s probably curled up in her bed in the main room. Sometimes she’ll be sleeping when he arrives, and because she’s a bit deaf in her old age she doesn’t always register right away when Yuuri comes home.

After hanging his coat up, Yuuri whistles a tune to himself as he strolls into the main room.

He stops. He stares.

Not a single poodle. Makkachin's not here.

He checks behind the sofa. Nope.

Under the kitchen island. Nope.

The bedroom and bathroom doors are closed, but he checks anyway. Nope and nope.

“Makkachin?” Yuuri says loudly, the name somehow making it past the lump that has developed in his throat.

She can’t be gone. Where would she be?

He picks up her food bowl, fills it with kibble and rattles it. That usually does the trick to summon Makkachin out of whichever pocket dimension she disappears to when he and Viktor aren’t looking.

She doesn’t come.

“Shit,” Yuuri says.

The door was closed before Yuuri came in. She can’t have run out while he was gone. And it was locked too. He always double and triple-checks before he leaves.

Yuuri sets down the bowl and walks quickly back into the entryway to examine the front door.

He did lock it, right? Suddenly Yuuri doesn’t feel so sure. He eyes the lock. It doesn’t look like it was tampered with, but maybe lockpicking technology is just that advanced these days?

Viktor has some expensive stuff in this apartment. Scandinavian furniture is not cheap, so Yuuri can easily see someone vying to break in and steal a floor lamp or two. Yes, they do have a doorman, but someone could have run in when they weren’t looking. It’s entirely possible.

He can see it now. Someone notices Viktor’s front door is ajar and peeks inside. Makkachin, as excitable and adorable as she is, trots up to this new visitor. And then--

Yuuri’s clamps a hand over his mouth. He feels like he’s going to be sick.  

“Not Makkachin! _Please_ , not Makkachin!” 

What if someone kidnapped her?

“Oh, _shit_.”

That would explain the lack of evidence. They would have covered their tracks, obviously, and who knows how much poodle body parts can fetch on the black market.

“ _Shit shit shit shit_.”

He has to go and look for her. Yuuri yanks his coat from its hook and shrugs it on, simultaneously shoving his feet into his sneakers and rootling around in his pockets for his phone.

His thumb hovers over ‘Call Emergency Services’. He should call them, right? Dogs are just as important as people. 

No, Yuuri decides, he’ll search for Makkachin himself. Then he’ll avoid the police reports and any chance for Viktor to find out about this in anyway possible. He’ll have Makkachin home safe and sound before dinner time.

Heart pounding, Yuuri steps out of the door.

His phone rings, its ringtone loud and echoing all throughout the corridor and into the stairwell. 

It’s Viktor.

Yuuri stares at Viktor’s profile picture, eyes wide. It’s a stupid selfie he’d taken when Viktor was still coaching him back in Hasetsu. He looks so happy there. Yuuri would hate to ruin it by telling him that his dog-child is missing, and he’s terrible at lying.

The elevator dings open and Ms Kurbanova glares at him as she walks past with two bags of groceries. She drops them outside of her door -- potatoes threatening to spill out all over the floor -- raises a finger to her lips and _shushes_  at him before stalking into her apartment and slamming the door.

“D--Da?” Yuuri stammers.

Out of a feeling of strangely misplaced shame, Yuuri steps back into his apartment and accepts the call.

_“Hello, beautiful. How’s it going? I just checked into my hotel!”_

“Um, Viktor! H-Hi!” His voice breaks. Yuuri’s not doing a good job at sounding like he hasn’t just lost his boyfriend’s dog. “I--I just got back from practice.”

 _“And how was it?”_ Viktor asks fondly.

“Uh,” Yuuri coughs. “Good. It was, um, it was good.”

Viktor waits a little for Yuuri to elaborate but when Yuuri stays silent, he hums.

_“Are you sure? Are you telling lies so I don’t worry about you? It doesn’t have to go well all the time, you know.”_

“I’m not lying!” Yuuri squeaks. “Um, I mean, I know it doesn’t have to go well!”

Viktor laughs. _“Well, alright, I won’t push you anymore. I have to leave soon, I was just calling to make sure you’re okay. Can you tell me how our baby Makkachin is doing? You’ll send me a picture of her, won’t you?”_

Yuuri thinks of Makkachin, all alone, wandering the streets of St Petersburg with nothing but food scraps to survive on.

A sob, entirely involuntary, escapes him.

_“Yuuri?”_

The guilt is crushing.

“Viktor,” Yuuri says in a small voice. 

“ _Yuuri.”_

“Makkachin’s been kidnapped.”

For a few long moments, the line is silent.

“Please don’t get upset,” Yuuri begs him, “I’m going out right now to look for her, and--and if that doesn’t work I’ll call the police, and--” He’s getting choked up now. “I _promise_ I am not going to sleep until I get Makkachin back here safe and sound.”

_“Are you--”_

“I’m just, I’m _so sorry,_ I should have triple and _quadruple_ -checked, but now it’s too late, and Makkachin’s…" He trails off. The possibilities are too awful to think about." She’s gone,” he whispers.

_“Yuuri, are you s--”_

“They’re going to catch her and sell her,” Yuuri blubbers. “You know poodles are valuable? We should have put a tracker on her collar -- you know the GPS trackers? Maybe we should hire a bodyguard--”

“ _Yuuri, she’s microchipped,” _Viktor says calmly._ “If she’s run out, she’ll be found pretty quickly. And if the door was left unlocked, I’m sure it wasn’t your fault. The dog walker was supposed to come today, they probably just forgot to lock it behind them.”_

“The--The what?”

_“You know, the dog walking company down the street. Remember we gave Makkachin to them when we went to Moscow? I have them take her out a few days a week.”_

Behind Yuuri, the doorbell rings.

And then, a familiar bark.

“Viktor,” Yuuri mumbles, “I have to go.”

_“Oh. Are--Are you sure? Don’t you need help? I can give you the number of the--”_

“No,” he whispers. “It’s fine.”

The doorbell rings again.

Viktor’s protests are cut short when Yuuri ends the call and sets his phone on the side. He wrenches open the door and flings his arms wide.

When he’s attacked head-on by a familiar, giant brown poodle and falls back into his apartment, Yuuri can’t stop himself from bursting into happy tears. Makkachin licks them from his face until they turn into hysterical laughter. The dog settles on top of him, and he can feel the movement of her butt as her tail wags at a breakneck speed. 

“You’re safe,” Yuuri murmurs into her fur. The sudden relief’s making him feel a little dizzy, so he’s perfectly content to lay sprawled like this with Makkachin on the floor.

Yuuri reaches up to unclip the leash from her collar.

“Sir?”

He blinks at the gangly teenager standing in the doorway. He's holding the other end.

“Thank you,” Yuuri breathes, feeling the tears well up again. Makkachin’s a heavy dog, so he has to wheeze it out. _“Thank you.”_

The teenager blinks back, a little blankly. He has two other dogs clipped to his waist, and they tug and pull on their own leashes, restlessly trying to drag him away from the the threshold and back down to the street.

“No problem, sir,” he replies in slightly accented English.

Yuuri makes sure to tip him extra. It’s hush money. Viktor’s not going to hear about any of this.

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://friendodo.tumblr.com)
> 
> thanks for reading!! pls let me know what you think. <3


End file.
